Doctor, Heal Thyself
by Rae Carson
Summary: The million-pound question: How will the Doctor handle a situation in which the life most in need of rescue...is his own?
1. Prologue

***_Disclaimer: Doctor Who and the established canon characters and lore contained within the following story are not mine. They are the property of BBC Wales and any of its licensees and constituents. I write fan fiction for pleasure, entertainment, and feedback, not monetary gain. Any situations, inventions, concepts, and characters you do not recognise are out of my own imagination, unless otherwise stated. _**

Dear Readers,

Welcome to my first Doctor Who fiction! If you've followed me for years, you know this is quite a jump from my established writing of "Potter only". However, the first fan fiction I ever wrote was for Star Trek. In the past 2 years or so, I have become increasingly ensconced within all things Doctor Who, and the more I find out, the more I like. It offers mirrors, twins, parallels, alternates, and all manner of sci-fi-geeky things which I enjoy, so I decided I'd take a shot at writing my own. Keep in mind that this fic will hop back and forth between New!Who, Classic!Who, alternate universes, parallel universes, may or may not include information from DW radio plays, novels, along with being supplemented by my own imagination. When in doubt, you can always ask me what's going on, and I'll do my best to explain--as long as it doesn't interfere with the storyline by revealing too much too quickly! Enjoy!

~Rae Carson

Doctor, Heal Thyself

Prologue  
Parallel Universe  
Present Day

Ever since the incident with the Judoon at the hospital where she worked, Martha Jones's life had taken a dramatic turn. Some of Earth's authorities had known for quite some time now that aliens existed in London. It made a lot of sense the further she thought on it, which is most likely why an agency called UNIT had recruited her shortly afterward. Though Martha hadn't any credentials or experience, that seemed less important to UNIT than interrogatives with questions such as, "Can you psychologically handle not only the presence of, but interacting with extra-terrestrials?"

Her answers were apparently to their liking, since the results of her school finals were expedited—no doubt due to pressure from UNIT. Nobody at the university seemed to care whether or not Martha Jones actually wanted a residency with some faceless agency; the school faculty instead behaved as if she were tainted or untouchable following the hospital debacle. It was quite hurtful, since she had considered many of her instructors and classmates to be her friends in the years leading up to their graduating. As a result, Martha elected not to attend her graduation ceremony, since the only people likely to show up would be her father and his floozy-of-the-week. Martha's sister was traveling abroad and her brother had joined the military straight after their mother's death so he could find some direction in his life.

Momentarily, Martha wished that her mother was still alive to see her graduate...and unwished it shortly thereafter. Working with UNIT meant keeping secrets—a lot of them—and it would be nearly impossible for Martha to keep everything she did from her mum. She also doubted her mother would know how to deal with Martha's scrambled feelings after having been kissed by a barefoot alien man on the moon. _And what a kiss it was, _she reminisced longingly.

Martha knew no chance remained of meeting up with the enigmatic Doctor ever again, for he had been killed in pursuit of that vampiric woman. After being cornered, the Plasmavore had teleported to one of the Judoon ships, but the Doctor had traced her signal and immediately teleported himself with the overloaded MRI machine over to the same ship to prevent the Plasmavore's escape. The Doctor's last act had been to activate the strongest deflector shields aboard the Judoon vessel. By so doing, he managed to contain the explosion of the MRI machine to just the Judoon ship and the surrounding area.

He was a hero—he managed to save not only everybody in the hospital, but over half the population of the planet, and nobody knew about it. Nobody except those few witnesses on the moon...and who would believe them? Only the tabloids, as Martha found out. The less she spoke about her experience with "normal" humans, the less people thought of her as mental, which suited her just fine.

Although Martha went to work everyday just like other people, it required her to follow stringent clearance and security guidelines. One might refer to the guidelines as "militant". She lived off-site in her flat, but the UNIT people still liked to behave as if they owned her. Several weeks after reporting to them, Martha still hadn't made any real friends but supposed that was probably for the best. The people who she trained with seemed rather abrasive, impersonable, and much preferred to keep their distance from anybody else. All of the training Martha was being given was leading up to something...she just didn't know what. It was also extremely odd that during her so-called "residency", she had yet to see a single patient.

Presently, she was en route to a top-top secret installation that was located somewhere off the surface of the planet. She had learned early on that it was best to directly ask questions as little as possible and instead learn what she needed to know through other means. It irked her that she still didn't know where exactly she was teleporting or precisely why they chose her to be there. Her assignment debriefing had lasted practically forever, but it didn't consist of any sort of real, solid information. It was more of the same type of extra-terrestrial stuff, except this time she was given physical training in case a "hostile alien engaged her in combat." Martha thought it was rather ominous that somebody in the medical profession was being trained more like a soldier than a doctor. Obviously, these UNIT people meant serious business.

She could only assume the new training paired with her cryptic orders "to observe something that was of non-Terran origin" meant that she was going to get up close and personal with an alien life form. Hopefully this also meant that the presumed life form would be less threatening than the Judoon had been.

Martha stepped down out of the teleport bay to be greeted by two heavily armed guards. _Clearly they don't want the wrong person gaining access,_ she thought warily. She doubted those weapons had any lower setting than "shoot to kill". As she was escorted through the corridors, Martha's sense of anticipation heightened. Bulkheads had painted warnings such as, "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" and "DANGER: TOXIC ATMOSPHERE". A few people walked by in containment suits. Otherwise, the outpost seemed scantily staffed. Considering the nature of what the installation probably held, it was no mystery why UNIT wanted as few people as possible to be aware of its existence. The silence still bothered her, however. The outpost seemed nearly as still as a crypt.

The guards led her through a non-descript doorway and left her with an older gentleman in a lab coat that matched her own.

"I'm Dr. Joel Sutherland," he said, and appeared to be sizing her up. "So you must be the lucky Martha Jones to whom they gave this assignment." Martha detected his sarcasm right off.

"What exactly is the assignment?" she asked curiously. "And yes, I am Martha Jones."

Dr. Sutherland jerked a thumb toward several large panes of glass within a darkened observation area. "It's him. You're supposed to watch him and note any changes in his behaviour."

"And is 'he' an alien?" The individual in the room was laying on a bed with his back to her.

"I've been told he is. Physically, he is externally indistinguishable from humans. The largest difference is his multi-lobed brain. Instead of having just two lobes like a human, he appears to have 12 or even 13 separate lobes. Other than that, the differences are minimal—a few missing organs, highly specialised endocrine system. And his blood is amazing. It assimilates oxygen at an efficiency that's 50% greater than yours or mine. His liver and heart are on the opposite side of the body from most humans, almost like his body is a mirror of somebody else. Not unheard of amongst humans, as you know—just extremely rare. The place where he excels the most is mentally, even though he's clearly impaired in that capacity."

Martha mulled over the information that Sutherland had just given her. It appeared she really was going to get to interact with an alien being after all. Then she asked, "How do you know he's impaired?"

"I don't know the full story. I can tell you that UNIT said his ship crashed and that when they found him, he had a terrible head injury." Sutherland paused and looked troubled, as if internally debating whether or not to tell Martha more.

"So UNIT says. What do you say?" she asked softly.

He looked into her eyes for a time before replying, "I'm not entirely certain a crash is responsible for his current condition. I can't say for certain—I have nothing to compare it to, of course—but the scars he has are indicative of some sort of lobotomy. That's why I can't tell if he's supposed to have 12 or 13 lobes in his brain."

Martha frowned. She didn't like the idea of those in the medical profession performing experimental surgery when it wasn't necessary. That included surgery on aliens as well as human beings. She valued all forms of life, whether or not two of the three species she'd encountered so far had been less than friendly. Then she back-tracked a bit.

"You knew my name. Did UNIT tell you to expect me?"

Sutherland pursed his lips and folded his arms as he said, "Well, not...entirely."

Her brow furrowing, Martha inquired, "And what exactly does that mean?"

"It would seem our subject in question," began Sutherland, nodding toward the person behind the glass, "knows who you are."

"He...what?" Martha was mystified. Something was niggling the back of her brain...

"It also seems that you two met in the same hospital with the Judoon attack."

Suddenly, the niggling something clicked in Martha's head. "John Smith! He said he was alien, but I didn't know whether or not to believe him. Last I knew, he died in that encounter, because some sort of...thing...Plasmavore I think it was? Murdered him." Her eyes flew open wide as she continued excitedly, "Are you telling me he's still alive?"

Dr. Sutherland sadly shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know of any 'John Smith'. The patient in that observatory goes by the name of 'Donald Noble'."


	2. Placebo

***_Disclaimer: Doctor Who and the established canon characters and lore contained within the following story are not mine. They are the property of BBC Wales and any of its licensees and constituents. I write fan fiction for pleasure, entertainment, and feedback, not monetary gain. Any situations, inventions, concepts, and characters you do not recognise are out of my own imagination, unless otherwise stated. _**

Doctor, Heal Thyself

Chapter One

Parallel Universe  
Several Months Previously  
Following the Medusa Cascade Occurrence

"'Donald Noble?'" Rose Tyler echoed the Doctor. "That's the name you wish to go by now?"

"Yeah. Or rather it's one of the ones I've been thinking about. New life, new Doctor, new name—my personal motto's been only slightly modified." He grinned over at Rose. "Besides, I can hardly go about cramping the style of the original. I'm just a copy of him, you know."

Rose jabbed him playfully in the arm and replied with mock indignation, "_Just a copy?_ _Just?_ You say that as if you're not as good as he is. I'll let you know I have it on good authority that you're better than him."

"Oh?" The Doctor's eyebrow elevated nearly to his hairline. "I'm torn between feeling flattered or insulted. Better in what way? And on whose authority?"

"My own authority, of course," replied Rose silkily, wrapping her arms around his slim waist. "And you're better in just about every way imaginable."

"For example..." he prompted, searching her eyes and leaning into her arms.

"This!" Rose shouted happily as the embrace turned into her tickling his ribs. She had never seen such a look of delighted shock on the Doctor's face as he laughed with wild abandon in spite of himself. "I could never have done this to him and got away with it!"

"What makes—you think—I won't—retaliate?" he barely managed to gasp out the sentence to Rose between bouts of laughter. He clearly hadn't been expecting this at all! _Ten points to the Earth girl, _thought Rose victoriously.

"You'll have to catch me first!" she replied as she sprinted away from him into the trees.

Ducking behind a particularly large tree trunk, Rose leaned back against the bark and contemplated the past few weeks. She and her Doctor were now recreating on the spacious grounds of her father's property. It was like something out of a fairy tale, the reality of getting to have the Doctor to herself after so long. Only in her wildest dreams did she ever contemplate such a man would devote himself to a life with her, but that's exactly what he had done. As much as the Doctor was capable of devoting himself to anyone, that is. He was still the same wonderful, whimsical, and slightly manic person he'd always been; it's just that now he was much more, well, human. Rose slunk around the tree trunk, didn't see anybody, and quickly hid behind another and continued her reminiscing.

Pete Tyler felt indebted to the Doctor in many ways and had been more than willing to let him stay in the spacious guest house. The Doctor had wasted no time in becoming the resident handyman, fixing this and fixing that, improving this and improving that. Rose must've heard the story of how he had invented his sonic screwdriver a hundred times by now, but it never got old. That was mostly because the Doctor changed or embellished the tale each time he told it.

Unfortunately, this new hobby became less than agreeable, since the Doctor quickly finished with the guest house and then set his attentions on the main manor. Pete put up with it at first since he knew the man was just trying to be helpful. But the Doctor kept popping up in the oddest places at the oddest times around the property, and it was really starting to grate on Pete's nerves. The hired help such as the butler and the maids had started to complain about him, and Pete tried to dissuade the Doctor with subtlety, by explaining that his doing all the improvements around the house was making Pete look bad to Jackie. The hidden meaning in Pete's message sailed straight over the Doctor's head, as he replied bluntly, "I'm just doing what should've been done ages ago. You're a man of means—it's not like you can't afford a good contractor." Pete was so nonplussed, the only thing he could do was walk sullenly out of the room, while Jackie and Rose began giggling like schoolgirls. The Doctor folded his arms and looked at the women in consternation and said, "Well now, what's so funny? All I did was state a fact!"

The final straw was when the Doctor accidentally caught Pete and Jackie in a particularly intimate moment in the hot tub. The Doctor had just finished making a few unscheduled modifications to the filters in the pool house and was leaving the room when Jackie saw him and screamed. Once she realised it was the Doctor and not some strange intruder, Jackie dissolved into raucous laughter, but it didn't matter. It was a very pink-faced, very indignant, and very soaked-in-his-dressing-gown Pete Tyler who practically insisted the Doctor should take a job with his corporation, in his office building, away from the house for the entire day, every day. Rose could tell the Doctor was about to decline the offer when she let him know that would be a bad idea—she surreptitiously kicked him in the leg while Pete wasn't looking. "OW—I mean—ohhh!..." he quickly recovered, "that's a very generous offer, Pete. I'll be glad to take you up on it."

"You make poor quarry indeed when you can't even contain your own laughter," Rose gasped and stiffened at the Doctor's voice being so close behind her ear. _Drat!_ She'd let herself get distracted and he sneaked up on her without her realising it. "Don't act so surprised," he teased, "did you really think you could escape me for very long?"

Time for Rose to change the rules of the game. "As if I'd want to," she demurred, reaching back a hand to caress the Doctor's cheek. He took the bait, wound his arms around her, and bent down to kiss Rose's lips over her shoulder. She stopped him, hand still on his face, their lips mere millimetres apart...

"But you know what?" Rose breathed, barely able to reign in her need to smother him in kisses right then and there.

"Mmm?" the Doctor smiled secretively.

"Right now, I feel like dancing!" Rose interjected, suddenly twirling herself outward. She still kept hold of one of the Doctor's hands, but she flung out her other arm with a "Ta-da!"

"HA!" exclaimed the Doctor, throwing his head heavenward. His eyes twinkled as he looked back at Rose and replied, "What an unbelievable coincidence. So do I! Now, we dance!"

And so they continued on with their made-up half-waltz half-tango, laughing merrily and tripping over one another's shoes as if they were a pair of tipsy teenagers. It entertained Rose greatly that for all of his snappy dress and cultural sophistication, the Doctor had two left feet! She couldn't resist the urge to tease him about it. "Don't tell me that in over 900 years of living, you never learned how to dance!"

He snorted upon replying, "If you wish to get technical with chronological age, I'm only a few months old." Oops. Rose had evidently struck a nerve. She covered up her knowing smirk by burying her head into his shoulder as they danced to the non-music. "On the contrary, Rose, it is specifically because I've lived over 900 years that I don't currently know how to dance. This incarnation doesn't, for example. If you recall, you and my Ninth self had a roaring time dancing the Charleston in the TARDIS. However, it was my Eighth self that was quite romantic and knew all the moves, so to speak. It evens out, though—he'd have looked horrible in Chucks and pin-striped suits."

Rose giggled into his chest, answering, "Fair enough." She continued, "And would your Eighth self have been attracted to the likes of me?"

The Doctor made an amused sound low in his throat before tilting her chin up so they would be eye-to-eye. "Although the following declaration might leave you somewhat unsettled, I can promise you this Time Lord, regardless of _incarnation, alteration,_ or _abomination,_ has never lacked in his _appreciation_ for intelligent and capable young women." He then proceeded to demonstrate to Rose just how deep his appreciation ran, by dipping her down low in his arms and giving her the kiss of her life.

"Now," he said confidently as they came up for air, "does that answer your question?"

"I'd say it's just what the Doctor ordered," quipped Rose breathlessly, "but I think I'd better take two, just to make sure."

* * *

Author's Note:

Don't worry, this isn't a Rose "Mary Sue" Tyler fic. but I will confess to being a shameless Rose/Doctor shipper. [I'm actually one of those rare fans who goes for "Doc/Anybody who brings him real joy" character arcs, I just like Rose a teensy bit more than most other pairings.] I'm not quite as masochistic as RTD by insisting that the Doctor can never be happy at all. Therefore, this is Rose's and human Ten's blissful moment of happiness before all hell breaks loose, if you will. And even if you won't, there you go. Do you like what you've read so far? Have I piqued and kept your interest? Do you think it sucks? Please let me know either way. Thanks. ~Rae =]


End file.
